Remembrances
by Inkling63
Summary: Spells, curses, laughter, tears, major characters, minor characters, muggles in a twist: A series of one-shots about things mentioned only briefly or inferred from various parts of the books.


**Luna: It's the little things that matter**

The summer sun shone down warmly on my back as I lay face down reading my latest favourite book. Bare feet brushed the grass lightly as tiny insects meandered their way across "Extinct Magical creatures: the truth". Daddy had given it to me as a present for my ninth birthday, something he'd brought back from one of his journeys. I'd just started a story about the Boogle, a close relative of Boggarts that once inhabited North America.

I suspected the tome might have been partly to get me out from under his feet for a bit while he worked, but I was enjoying the stories too much to mind. I was "too curious for my own good" he would joke with me, but I knew he didn't really mean it. After all he'd spent his life chasing after animals no one knew anything about. And my Mum…well, she had a penchant for experimenting, something that often went wrong. Nevertheless, she was a brilliant witch and sometimes it could yield the most wonderful results. Like these cookies…yum!

Then suddenly I heard the sounds that changed my live irrevocably. A terrifying explosion, the tinkling of glass, the abrupt silence that followed as if the whole world had stopped breathing. I heard Daddy yelp in horror and pain. Even at nine I could hear the grief in his voice and understand perfectly. I must have known, deep down, that one person couldn't survive on good fortune alone. Mum's luck had finally run out.

I abandoned the book, Boogles forgotten. Bracing myself for whatever sight waited for me inside, I headed towards the back door. The sameness of it all shocked me most. I felt so different, how could everything look exactly as it had mere hours ago.

Daddy was clutching my mum's body, sobbing silently to himself. I didn't know I was crying until I hugged him and felt the tears on my cheeks as I pressed my face to his robes. It wasn't until much later that I found it, resting on my bed. An envelope addressed with a single scripted _L_.

_My dearest Luna,_

_This letter was to appear only if something happened to me. Since you're reading this I can no longer provide comfort by holding you in my arms as I so loved to do. But let me do the best I can. _

I continued to read, smiling despite the tears. Trust Mum to think of everything.

_I love you, don't ever forget that. And I will always be there whenever you need me. Just keep your ears open. Don't afraid to be different, to ask questions, to let your curiosity take you to unexpected places. Remember, it's the little things that matter._

_-x-_

"For as long as I can remember, my mum's been experimenting. My first memory is of her bewitching toys I'd been given for my 3rd Christmas by unsuspecting muggle relatives. She managed to explode them just as often as persuade them to move in the exact patterns she planned." I smiled slightly, remembering her mixed expression of horror and amusement that had entertained me more than the toys ever did.

"I went without a cake every birthday because Mum's experiments with the icing always resulted in an inedible mush all over the kitchen. For my 9th birthday she finally managed to get it right…more by luck than anything else I suspect. I had a cake the size of the kitchen table covered in a miniature model of our house and it even had moving icing people. It had taken weeks to finish. She'd promised to do an even bigger one next year." I laughed sadly at the memory, a promise she wouldn't now be able to keep.

I continued to relate stories of a mishap-filled childhood, eliciting laughter throughout the packed congregation with some of the wilder ones. Mum would approve; she couldn't bear tears. There was so much I wanted to say…I wanted to talk forever about my Mum, remembering every moment I'd had with her so I would never forget. But I didn't want to cry in front of all these people, not yet. And it was time to say our final goodbyes anyway. So I concluded, "I miss her, but she died doing something she loved, and she wouldn't want to change anything for the world."

I hadn't been to a funeral before and it was beautiful. Sadness and tears aplenty – but magic so perfect it ached to watch. After everything was over, the guests retired to the house to begin a night of feasting, and sorrow-drowning in the drink provided by Mum's old friend Rosmerta. I stood alone above the grave, admiring the lovely stone Daddy had found to mark the spot.

Just at that moment the sun came out and suddenly the grave was covered with lilies, Mum's favourite flower. I imagined I could hear the faint whisper of her voice behind me and smiled. It was indeed the little things that mattered most.


End file.
